Build a Heaven in Hell's Despair
by AThousandVoices
Summary: A series of oneshots exploring Eleanor Lovett's history
1. Joy in Another

Joy in Another's Loss of Ease

_"Nellie..."_

She hated nights like these. They always ended tragically, with her one step closer to insanity. She had tried ignoring him, but it seemed the more she did so the more he came back.

_"Eleanor, please..."_

Benjamin Barker's clear, kind voice cut through the suffocating silence pressing down on Mrs. Lovett's chest, and she squeezed her eyes closed, pressing her hands on her ears as she sank down in the parlor, her back against the dark green wallpaper.

_"I need you..."_

This wasn't real. None of this was real, and it never would be. Benjamin Barker did not love her. He would never love her. Mrs. Lovett whimpered, taking a shaky breath as she fought the rising hysteria in her throat.

_"Nell, _please_ talk to me..."_

None of this is real. She _knows_ this. Her mind hasn't stopped playing tricks on her since he left. Since he was snatched away from her, sent on some vile ship to Australia. Every glance, every step he was with her. She saw him in the shadows, heard his footsteps above her shop, caught his whispers in the silence. Mrs. Lovett sat there, hunched over, her head in her arms. She couldn't live like this. Waiting for him to return, hating herself for wishing she were Lucy, for wishing she could kill her like she'd killed her husband. Wishing it was she Benjamin Barker dreamed about in Australia, her child that he had left behind. And it was impossible. He would never love her - not now.

A/N: Hey guys! So I've decided to create a collection of connected one-shots from Mrs. Lovett's view that go throughout her history. They're in no particular order, meant to be like snapshots into her past. Please review and let me know what you honestly think! Oh, and the fic title and chapter titles are taken from various historic love poems.


	2. The Spent and Maimed Among

The Spent and Maimed Among

Mrs. Lovett sighed, looking at the dusty work station sprinkled with flour and the occasional bug. She _knew_ her pies were getting worse and worse as the days went on, but she couldn't bring herself to care. All that mattered was that _he_ was gone. The man who had once made her smile with just one glance, the man whom she knew she loved. And the closest thing Mrs. Lovett had was his wife and child. Sorrow weighing on her brow line, the baker pulled a tray out of one of her cupboards, loading it with tea and pies, and made her way to the apartment above her. Each step took the effort of a lifetime, and Mrs. Lovett didn't know why she was doing this. Each step took her closer to the woman she could not and would not ever be. The sickeningly virtuous and angelic woman who had won her barber's heart, the woman she could never be. Each time she looked at her, Mrs. Lovett felt ill, angry, furious. And jealous. Envious that she had won him when Mrs. Lovett could not. Envious and threatened by her golden curls, by the figure that never gained weight, by the way she shone when she held Johanna. And yet here she was, helping her, for it was the closest thing to Mr. Barker she had left.

"Mrs. Barker? Can I come in?"

Mrs. Lovett knocked lightly on the door, pressing an ear to the frame. She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the solid wood. She could almost pretend she was bringing him breakfast, see his smile when she entered the room, feel his arms around her, imagine his-

"Yes, come in."

Her eyes snapped open, and Nellie pried the door open. She stepped inside, her eyes sweeping around the room to find Lucy Barker leaned over the crib where her baby lay. Both envy and pity swept like fire through her body, and Mrs. Lovett placed the tray down on the vanity that sat in a corner.

"I brought you some breakfast, dear," she said, rightening herself and brushing some stray flour from her corset. Pausing a moment for a reply, Mrs. Lovett sighed when she got none and headed toward the door.

"Mrs. Lovett? Do you ever miss him?"

The voice froze her, hand reaching for the doorknob. A sharp pang reverberated through her chest, almost too much to bear. She would never know. She could never understand. From where she was standing facing the door, Mrs. Lovett dropped her arms at her sides and replied, her voice suddenly thick and low.

"Yes. All the time."

She turned around slowly, looking at Lucy, whose eyes were rimmed in red, whose hands were fiddling with her expensive dress. Rage worked through her stomach and up through her throat, but Nellie quelled it, reminding herself that Lucy could not help herself. It was her simple nature.

"Yes. I suppose," Lucy replied, turning back to Johanna. "I just... I... You wouldn't understand." She tilted her head down, curls falling gently around her face. "We only had three years together as husband and wife. One with Johanna. I- It's simply so short. Too short to enjoy. I feel as though we've been together a day, and nature cruelly parted us." Her innocent features clouded with confusion and what Mrs. Lovett could almost call anger. "It makes me want to.. to die, almost."

Mrs. Lovett stood watching, incredulity building until she couldn't bear it any more. She wouldn't _understand_? Who could understand better than her, who pined for Mr. Barker for three long years, who had to watch Lucy grow with child and watch his face light up every time he laid eyes on the fair-headed woman he called his wife. Her hands clenched into fists, and she willed herself not to harm this woman, for Mr. Barker's sake. But she could not stop herself from speaking.

"Only three years? _Only_ three years?" she asked, her voice rising to hysterics. Lucy, alarmed, stepped back into the crib, bumping herself and watching Mrs. Lovett with wide eyes. "And I wouldn't understand? I watched you for _three long years_. I loved him for three long years. At least you got to love him! I got a look here, a glance there. I had to watch you kiss him, watch you hold him, and know it would never be me!"

Her voice was trembling, shouting, hysterical. Lucy shook before her, hunched over slightly with tears running anew down her face.

"I had to bear the pain for THREE LONG YEARS! AND YOU'RE DYING BECAUSE HE'S BEEN GONE FOR A MONTH?"

At some point she had progressed so that she was in Mrs. Barker's face, looking down on the woman collapsed on the floor, aching sobs wreaking from her body. The blonde woman looked up, fear and sorrow in her eyes, and Mrs. Lovett stared down, fury and rage in hers. Her body was shaking, and her hands were tense at her sides, her nails digging lines into her palms. Feeling her resolve weaken as tears burned the back of her throat, Nellie swallowed the giant lump, turning on her heel and striding rapidly to the door, which she slammed on its hinges behind her.

A/N: So yeah, I've had a few written out for a little bit and I figured I'd put up whatever I had. More to come soon (;


	3. One Should Love, the Other Win

One Should Love, the Other Win

Eleanor Beddows lifted her skirts, giggling as she ran across the cobblestone streets on the outskirts of London.

"Nellie! Slow down!" her mother cried, smiling as she chased after the young girl. But Nellie kept running.

She paused for a moment, spotting something just off the street. Frowning, she slowly made her way over, leaning down and hoisting her skirts as she squatted in front of the small brown lump. Sliding a small fleshy hand under the thing, she lifted it close to her. Squinting a bit, Nellie could make out a crooked neck and the red smatterings of blood. It was a dead bird. Smiling a bit to herself, she brought it closer, sitting down on her bum. She examined it, looking at the wiggling white maggots that buried deep in its flesh, intrigued by the way it felt soft in her hands, the way little feathers freed themselves from its body, falling lightly on the grass before her.

"ELEANOR BEDDOWS!" her mother screeched, staring at the little girl with wide eyes. "PUT THAT BIRD DOWN NOW!" she shouted, pulling her girl up by the waist. Nellie looked over at her, eyes wide.

"Why mum? I think it's pretty," she said, her face lighting up as she looked again at the still form. Her mother knocked the thing out of her hands, pulling the little girl to a new patch of grass and forcing her to wipe her hands.

"NO, Nellie. Those things are dirty," she said with a shudder, pulling her girl along. "Come along, now. Your Aunt Nettie will be wantin' to see you."

Nellie let her mother pull her along, giving one last longing glance at the silent bird willing her to return to it once more.


	4. Excuse from Pain

Excuse from Pain

Eleanor Beddows walks grimly down the wedding aisle, her white veil masking the smile and her sad eyes. Her father clutches proudly at her arm, oblivious or uncaring about his daughter's distress. Nellie keeps her eyes trained on the ground in front of her, willing herself not to look at Albert Lovett, for that would seal her fate and crush her dreams. She would not say 'I do' to a man she loved. She would not sit on a rocker on the porch to her house by the sea. She would not wake every day and feel as though it was her first date over again. She would spend the rest of her life with a man who she felt nothing for. Her heart races at the idea, all her childhood fantasies crumbling around her. The music suddenly sounds too loud, their pace too slow, and Eleanor fights to keep the smile on her face though her cheeks ache. She reaches the altar to see Albert grinning down at her, looking proud and radiant. Weakly returning his smile, Nellie turns to the priest, only half-listening to the words he speaks. When Albert looks a her expectantly, she clears her throat, finding her throat dry and her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. Struggling against the weight pressing down on her chest, Nellie glances at Albert out of the corner of her eye before whispering to words that will seal her fate.

"I do."

**A/N**: Read and review! (;


	5. Forget the Warmth

Forget the Warmth

Eleanor Lovett sat at the table in the small, deserted pie shop, a glass of gin in one hand. The world swam precariously, but the man standing in front of her did not. His face showed concern and pity and a bit of anxiety. It had been three months since Benjamin Barker had been called away, and two weeks since he had reappeared in her mind. Eleanor scowled at him, gulping down the gin in her glass before pouring herself some more. Benjamin frowned, but said nothing. Choking slightly on the liquid as it burned its way down her throat, Eleanor closed one eye, leaning closer to the gin bottle. Coo. Only about an inch of liquid was left on the bottom. She could've swore the bottle was unopened when she'd brought it to the table. In front of her, Benjamin cleared his throat, folding his arms over his chest. He eyed her warily.

"How much longer to you plan on doing this?" he asked, gesturing to the nearly empty bottle. Nellie gulped another glass down.

"As long as it takes for me to forget I ever loved you," she said, staring at him defiantly. Benjamin sighed, taking a seat in front of her. Grinning drunkenly, she pushed him her glass after pouring the last of the gin into it. "Here, love. Have a drink," she muttered, standing up slowly to get another bottle. Her legs had somehow turned to jelly during this past sitting, but Nellie was determined not to show Mr. B how the gin was already affecting her body. She needed more. She could still remember his name, feel her heart ache as she watched his ship sail over the horizon, see his smile as he walks into her pie shop.

Huffing, Nellie shuffles slowly to the cabinet, supporting herself on the counter as she attempts to open it. Her hands flail around twice before her fingers grasp desperately at the little knob, wrenching it open with a bit too much strength. The hinges protest as the wooden door smacks into another cabinet, and Mrs. Lovett swears, pulling another bottle out of the cabinet. Falling backwards into the counter, she takes a deep breath through her nose, willing herself not to look at Mr. Barker. It would only reverse what she'd been attempting to do.

Arriving back at her seat, she watches Benjamin sip at the liquid, strangely feeling it burn down her own throat. Glaring at him, she opens this new bottle, not managing with a glass. Shoving the bottle to her lips, Nellie tilts her head back and lets the liquid fire pour down her throat, hoping it will burn her heart out, numb her to the pain that every day brings. Mr. Barker fiddles with his glass, avoiding her glare. Setting the gin bottle down a little too forcefully, some alcohol sloshes out onto the table with a bang, but Mrs. Lovett hardly cares. She points a finger accusingly at Mr. Barker. "I was... gettin' along jus' fine without ya,**"** she slurs, and somehow her eyes cannot quite focus on him. Clearing her throat, she braces herself against the table with her hands, elbows locked in position as the world spins around her. "Go away."

Benjamin sighs, standing up as he goes to sit next to her. "Not until you stop this."

Nellie glares at him again. "I'll stop this when you leave." Grabbing at the gin again, Nellie swallows down a few more large mouthfuls before she hears the bedroom door open and Albert's shuffles. Slamming the bottle back down on the table, she looks over. Benjamin is gone, but Albert's big frame stands in the parlor, his eyes sad. He sighs.

"Nellie. You're talking to yourself again."

Eleanor grunts. Running a hand over his bald head, he enters the kitchen with heavy steps that make the house shake. Pulling the gin closer to her, Eleanor scuttles into the corner of the booth, drawing her legs up to her chest. Tears pop into the corner of her eyes as she looks up at him with wide, frantic eyes. Albert takes in the empty bottle and glass and the gin that is now only half-full. Holding back his comments, Mr. Lovett places the glass and bottle gingerly in the sink, and while his back is turned, Mrs. Lovett desperately chugs at the gin in her hand. Whirling around, Albert shoots her a glare. Frowning, Nellie lowers the bottle with shaking hands. She _almost_ forgets. Almost.

Heading toward her, Albert wrestles the bottle out of her grasp, but at the last moment Mrs. Lovett screeches, throwing herself at him. "No! NO! I don't - need - forget -" she babbles on incoherently, tears streaming down her face as her brain desperately tries to find why it is she needs the gin again. She knows it's something about _him_. And she can't stop now. By now, tears are slowly falling down Albert's cheeks as well. As she breaks down into silent, heaving sobs, Albert pulls the bottle weakly away, setting it down on the table. He lifts her into his arms, and Mrs. Lovett gingerly puts her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. Her sobs are ever-present, and Albert knows they won't stop until she finally falls asleep. He heads slowly toward their room, knowing she will wake up tomorrow sick and begin the cycle yet again.


	6. The Heart Asks Pleasure First

The Heart Asks Pleasure First

"Mr. T, I brought you dinner," she said, pushing open the door without knocking. It's of no use. He would ignore her anyway. Stepping into the grim barber's shop, Mrs. Lovett sees Mr. Todd standing with his back to her, staring out the window as always. Sighing, she sets the tray holding a small bowl of soup, a piece of bread, and a mug of ale down on the vanity, placing a hand on her hip. He does not even acknowledge her. Feeling rage and despair claw at her chest, Nellie fights back tears and shouts and anger. Fifteen years. She had spent fifteen years waiting for him. Drinking herself silly, watching Albert die, refusing to lose hope. And this was how he repaid her? Without her, he wouldn't even be alive right now. Without her, he would be living on the streets, no money, no clothes, no razors. Mrs. Lovett notices her nails are digging into her corset and that her chest is heaving, but she doesn't care. Closing her eyes, Nellie struggles to calm herself. She knows that if she yells, he'll just press a razor to her throat and they'll only be pushed farther apart.

"Mr. T," she tries again, shifting her weight. When he doesn't reply, Eleanor sighs and shuffles toward him, looking up at his face with wide brown eyes. "It's gone. She's gone." she says simply, her brow furrowing as the corners of her mouth turn down. "You know that, Mr. T. The best you can do for them is get revenge and move on." She shifts slightly so that if he looks down he'll just be able to see the red money pouch tucked down her corset, that he'll see her pouting lips, the way her mouth is slightly parted. His head snaps to the side, woken from his daydreams. His lip curls up on one side, and Mrs. Lovett sighs, standing up a little straighter so that all he needs to do is lean in to seal the kiss. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, knowing she's finally done it. He will finally love her.

"Get. Out."

The words are hissed in her face, their lips mere a hair's breadth away. Her heart misses a beat. Mrs. Lovett's eyes snap open, catching sight of his full lips, the way they curl around his sneer, the way his eyes are so much more fiery and passionate when he's infuriated, the way his hair is a wild mess around his face. Her chest heaves as she struggles to get in a breath. But he pulls away, glaring at her with a look that would turn fire to ice. She breaks then, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes flick down to the floor, and she rubs at the dust on the floor with the toe of her black boots. "Mr. Todd, please, I was only tryin'-" but he won't listen, only stepping closer in one long stride, his face livid. Swallowing the fear and sorrow in a lump in her throat, she turns on her heel and slams the door behind her.


	7. HalfWhispered Words Low

Half-Whispered Words Low

Eleanor waited until she could hear her husband snoring beside her, and then she threw off the covers and pulled a black robe around her, slipping her feet into her black boots without bothering to lace them up. She stood, careful not to make a sound, before slipping out of the bedroom, through the parlor, out of the pie shop, and up the stairs to the Barker's abandoned apartment. As it was every time she pushed the door open and heard the small bell ring out, despair strangled her and clawed its way into her chest. She froze, placing the bucket in her hand down and leaning her hand on the door frame as she bent over and struggled to breathe. This happened every bloody time she stepped into the apartment. All she could see was him, smiling happily or embracing his wife or holding little Johanna. Swiping angrily at her tears, Nellie yanked the bucket inside, letting the bell tinkle behind her a the door closed. It had been a year. One whole year. But the pain that left her breathless had not eased at all. It was ever-present, and Nellie was beginning to fear that it would never go away.

Shuffling over to the floorboard where she had hid Mr. Barker's razors. Nellie pried the wood up and reached her gloveless fingers inside, pulling the velvet-covered box out of the mess below. Blowing off dust that didn't exist, Mrs. Lovett gently unfolded the velvet, undoing the latches on the box and softly opening it, marveling at the way the razors shone without light, at the intricate designs cut into the silver. She wrapped a small hand around one, closing her eyes as she imagined Mr. Barker's hand over her own, his warm touch guiding her as it glided across his face, hissing as it shaved his already-immaculate cheek. Her eyes opened, and she flicked it open, pulling out the cloth she had taken and carefully wiping it down, polishing it until it shone brighter than the sun. Once she had finished with the razors, Nellie sharpened them slowly, imagining she was readying them for when Mr. Barker would return. He had left them in her care, he did, because he was on holiday with little Johanna at the sea. He was gone for a year, but he would be home soon. Tomorrow, perhaps.

Gingerly replacing the box under the floorboard, Nellie put the wood back in place and sighed. She could imagine him, wandering into her pie shop, as she rolled out the dough as always. They would both cry, and Nellie would tell him Lucy had died. She would speak of how she had tried to raise Johanna herself, how the malicious Judge Turpin had raped Lucy and driven her insane, how he had taken the little girl for himself, and how Nellie had spent the years polishing his razors and preparing for his return. And he would be so grateful. He would move in above her, but before long they would both sleep below. They would marry and move to the sea, and he would love her, and all her dreams would come true.

She grabbed for the bucket and brush, leaning over and scrubbing the floor. Mr. Barker's apartment had always been pristine, and Nellie knew he wouldn't appreciate seeing dust cling to his old home. It had to be neat and tidy for his return. Each brush made her arms ache and she ground her teeth, wiping at sweat on her forehead. But she did not stop. She cleaned his room every week, coming up to clean and dust and polish his razors and lie in his bed. She would smell his pillow, dreaming of the day he would come back to her and sweep her up in his arms and they would laugh and be merry. And she knew he would come back. He had to. It was the only reason she had to live.


	8. In the Dark Hours

In the Dark Hours

Nellie balanced an armful of laundry in her right hand, prying open the door to Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor open with her left. She found Mr. Todd covered in blood yet again, and she picked up the bucket of soapy water she had set down outside, pulling it inside. Sighing, Mrs. Lovett put the clean clothes in his unsoiled lap, saying nothing as his fingers curled around the white shirts and dark trousers, and instead she folded her arms across her chest, looking at him with an odd expression. "You know, Mr. T, you really oughta be a bit cleaner about all these killings," she said, moving a hand to her hip as she shifted her weight. "The judge could come in any time, and what'd you do then, eh? You'd be ruined, that's what. All that waitin', all for nothing. But ah well. Let's get to work." She ignored the fact that Mr. T wasn't listening to her at all, stuck in his mind yet again. After so many years of solitude, of speaking to herself or to people in her mind, it was nice to know there was someone to direct her words to.

Nellie sighed, hitching up her skirts as she knelt on a clean area of the blood splattered floor, reaching out for her rag and dipping it into the soapy water. "You know, Mr. T," she began, methodically scrubbing at the gore and blood without batting an eye, "Business 'asn't been too bad, you know. We got some money comin' in regular like, an' we've been getting a load of new customers. Quite the arrangement we've got going, eh?" Mrs. Lovett looked up at Sweeney Todd, who was staring blankly ahead, the clothes still in his lap. Frowning, her brows furrowed as she paused in her cleaning. Clearing her throat, Mrs. Lovett shifted slightly on the floor, shaking her head so the loose auburn curls fell around her face and so that if he were to look down, he would see her pale white skin and the rise of her chest against the dark dress and corset. "Mr. T," she tried again, and this time, Mr. Todd's head snapped down toward her. Eyes widening, he took in the room.

"The room! If the judge comes, what will he think?"

Mrs. Lovett sighed, looking up at him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Mr. T, what do you think I'm doin'?" she asked, a small smile playing at her lips. Sweeney Todd's eyebrows drew together, and he stood abruptly, usurping the clean laundry Mrs. Lovett had earlier deposited on his lap and sending it straight into the puddles of blood. Squeaking angrily, Mrs. Lovett dove for the clothes, yanking out of the blood which had already seeped into the crisp white shirts and dark trousers. "Mr. T!" she shouted, chucking the laundry to another side of the room. "Now look what you've done! D'you know how long it takes to get the bloody stains outta those shirts? Takes me hours!" Her face was slightly flushed, and she stood hurriedly as he looked down at her, a slight amusement playing on his otherwise emotionless face. Clucking, Mrs. Lovett sighed and sank back to the ground.

"Well, suppose worryin's not gonna do anything about it," she muttered, viciously picking up the rag and scrubbing again. "And it's not like me dress is going to get any cleaner."


	9. The Soul Wears Out the Breast

The Soul Wears Out the Breast

_"BENJAMIN!"_

Lucy's shriek bounced off the dark stone walls of the holding cells, and she hardly noticed the disgusted look the guard gave her or the tears that threatened to spill over Eleanor Lovett's eyes as she collapsed in heap at the bars before her. Her dainty fingers curled around the iron bars, and she pressed her face against them, sobbing, at the sight of the man in front of her. Benjamin Barker sat, curled against the bars as well, his head buried in his hands. At her shout, he sprung out, wrapping his hands around hers as much as was possible. Mrs. Lovett swallowed a sob.

Mr. Barker leaned his forehead against the bars, mumbling softly to her as he brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. Yet nothing would calm her. Lucy sobbed and sobbed, hysterical as she gasped for breath. "I - I- I- Oh, _Benjamin_" she managed, sniffling as tears fell from her face onto the lay pink dress she wore. Mr. Barker sidled closer to the barred gate, his shackles scraping across the stone as he moved. The sight was too much for Eleanor, and she turned away, not wanting to see the pain evident on his face or the way he looked at his wife, the way his face was covered with dirt and cuts or the way his ankles were crusted with dried blood from where the shackles had dug into his skin. Curling her hands into fists, she closed her eyes and fought against the hysteria that was bubbling inside her. No. She needed to be strong. For him.

"Lucy. Lucy, please. It'll be alright. I will come back for you, I promise," he whispered soothingly, causing Lucy to break into sobs once more. She hurled herself at the bars, insane, as if with this futile task she would break down the false crime parting them and be at his side once more. At this Eleanor turned around, kneeling beside her. "Hush, Lucy, dear. It's alright. Mr. Barker is fine, see?" she swallowed, willing herself not to look at him. Shaking slightly as she inhaled, Mrs. Lovett placed her arms around the small woman's body, giving her a moment. "Now, you say your goodbyes. I think it's best if you say goodbye to Mr. Barker now," she said quietly, pulling away after a moment and returning to her former place, her back to the couple. Begging for strength, Mrs. Lovett attempted to tune out the hysteric words and desperate pleas and the way Mr. Barker's voice broke when he spoke to Lucy. This must be so hard for him. _He_ was being sent to the Devil's Island, from where Mrs. Lovett _knew_ he would never return, and he was forced to comfort his grieving wife. After a long few moments, Mrs. Lovett heard Lucy get up and tear away from the prison, sobs rising in her throat. Not trusting herself in that moment, Mrs. Lovett desperately attempted to subdue the burning in the back of her throat.

"Nellie..."

The soft words pierced her heart more than the death of her parents, more than the pangs of hunger and the way she resented her husband. More than the deaths of her two children and the jealousy of Johanna. Gasping shakily, Eleanor turned slowly around, her eyes finally falling on Mr. Barker fully. She noticed he was crying. Collapsing at the bars, Mrs. Lovett wrapped her arms around him as much as was possible. Her forehead pressed against the bars, wanting nothing but to envelop him in his arms and show him how she truly felt, to be there for him and comfort him as he had done so often for her, to give him a moment of peace before his world completely shattered. But the cruel bars separated them, pressing vilely into their bodies with foreign metal, reminding them where they were and why they were here. "Shh, Mr. Barker," she whispered, sticking her and through the bars and pushing dark brown hair out of his eyes. "I know," she said after a moment, unable to reassure him as she knew it would _not_ be alright, that his life would never be the same, and the fact that she could not even give him these soft words of encouragement made her heart break further.

"I can't... I just..."

Mrs. Lovett whispered soothingly to him, rubbing his back gently as she told him stories of the seaside, of how the water would glimmer and glisten and soft waves lapped at the shore, how the sun would smile on them and how worries evaporated into thin air. When her fairy tales were through and Benjamin Barker seemed somewhat calmed, she pulled back, but Mr. Barker's arm shot out to grab her and his frantic eyes caught with hers. "Please. Stay with me."

Mrs. Lovett blinked back tears, nodding shakily as she returned to him, wanting nothing more than to press her lips to his, to let him know just how _much_ she loved him, to once, just once, have some sort of closure. But she could not upset him further and destroy this moment, this one time he needed her. Her body shook gently with each breath she pulled in. She could not last much longer. Feeling tears leak from her eyes, Nellie blinked furiously, attempting to dispel the traitorous drops before Mr. Barker could see. But he simply clung to her, his hands desperate, frantic. And Eleanor was more than willing to give in to the darkness that pulled her down.

"Oi! Time ta go."

The loud shout jolted Mrs. Lovett awake, and she jumped, banging her head against hard metal bars. It all came back to her in a rush, and she held tighter onto Mr. Barker, who was looking at her with wide, terrified eyes. "Please, Nellie, please don't go! Please, I need you, please," he begged, pressing his body as close to the bars as possible. "I won't, Mr. Barker, I promise, they can drag my body away. I won't leave you." her voice was hushed, hysteria bubbling in her throat as the large man drew closer. "Please, Mr. Barker, please remember. Come back. I know you can. You 'ave to! Lucy and I and Johanna, I-" her voice cut off as the guard dug a rough hand under her arm and dragged her away from the bars. Wrapping her fingers around the iron metal, she resisted with every muscle in her body as Mr. Barker rose to his knees, tears falling anew as he begged for mercy. "Mr. Barker!" she shrieked as her grip lost its purchase and she tumbled backwards, reeling, her arms waving in front of her, trying to hold anything, something. Mr. Barker gave a broken sob, the iron bars making impressions where they pressed against his face as he reached a hand out to her. "Nellie," he whispered, his body shaking violently. "Benjamin! It's fine. I- I'll wait for you. Lucy an' me an' Johanna. We'll be here, Benjamin! I swear!" The guard dragged her away, her feet scraping helplessly on the floor as she struggled to right herself, the tears falling at last as she watched the only man she had ever loved break on the cell floor.


	10. Forget the Light

Forget the Light

One day. She could do it. One more day. Just one. Nellie leaned heavily on the counter, feeling the world spin around her. Her stomach gnawed painfully at her insides, and even now she could feel how her corset did not hug her body, how her dress hung limply off her shoulders and her hair clung, greasy and unkempt, to her forehead. Feeling nausea rise in her despite the fact that she hadn't eaten in about a week, Mrs. Lovett forced herself to lean over a bin in the side of the room, dry heaving until her body shook and her knees gave out beneath her. What was the point? What reason did she have to live any more? Sobs wrenched her body as she curled into a ball, her face dry as always. She had spent her last tears years ago. And for the first time, she longed for Albert. She had never realized how much she needed him, how he had always been there for her. He had known she did not love him and never could, yet he picked her up off the ground and held her when she vomited gin and cried out for Mr. Barker in the night. He rubbed her back while she sobbed and did his best to help her, and now he was gone too. She was alone. She was utterly alone. And what hurt most of all was that she did not miss him for any reason other than the fact that she needed his aid. She simply wanted him to pick her life back up and then leave her be. She did not miss his rumbling laugh or the way his stomach hung over his pants, the way he sometimes shouted when she burned the pies while daydreaming about Benjamin Barker, the way his face lit up each time he saw her. She missed his care for her.

Closing her eyes, Eleanor fought the hysteria that bubbled in her chest, but she could suppress it no longer. Laughing hysterically, she rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself up on her forearms and pulling her body together as she fought for breath against the laughs that shook her body. She pressed her forehead to the dirty floor, unable to stop the giggles from pouring out of her throat. She laughed until she could not breathe, taking deep, raspy breaths that pained her lungs. And when she had finished, she simply let herself fall to the floor, not caring how the hard ground thumped against her temple or how her wrist ached at the impact. In fact, the pain reminded her she was alive. She would die if she could, but she had promised. She would wait for Mr. Barker. She had to. But it was so hard. So hard to live with the pain in her head, the way memories took her breath away and made her break even further. Pushing herself along the floor, hardly crawling, Mrs. Lovett slowly came to the booth, pulling herself up on weak arms. She almost succeeded in reaching her knees, but her hands lost purchase and her forehead smacked against the unyielding wood. Mind reeling, she slid back to the floor, feeling her forehead pounding and warm blood trickle down her face. Grinning madly, she put a hand to her head, her fingertips drawing lines in her own blood. When she pulled her hand back her fingers were coated in dark red blood. A giggle bubbled up from her throat, and she traced patterns on the dusty floor until darkness ate at her vision again.


	11. Come to Me in Dreams

Come to Me in Dreams

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

Mrs. Lovett stood up from her position bent over at the oven, turning to face the new voice. She brushed at flour on the front of her dress, having never worn an apron, and caught sight of the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He had shining eyes and beautiful dark brown hair, and his voice was clean and pure. Fighting the urge to gawk, Eleanor gave a small smile. "Here, love. Can I help you with somethin'?" She watched the man enter the shop, smiling as well, and he sat down at the small booth and table that lay in front of the front window. "Actually, I came for a pie, if you happen to have any left," he said, and Nellie's heart caught. "O-Of course, dear," she said quickly, fighting to hide her blush. He was young, younger than her. But something about him made Eleanor want to stare, to watch how his smile reached his eyes and examine every part of his face. Instead, she took a pie from the tray and placed it on a dish, walking out from behind the counter and placing it in front of him. "Anything else? Some ale, maybe?" she asked, leaning a hand on the table as she raised her eyebrows. The man broke out into another smile.

"Ale would be lovely."

Nodding, Mrs. Lovett busied herself getting out a mug and filling it with the drink, thinking of something to say to him that would get him to speak again. What was he doing here? While business wasn't awful, men like _him_ certainly didn't come in too often. Setting the mug down on the table as well, Mrs. Lovett quirked the corner of her mouth up into a half-smile and lingered a moment before returning to her counter, quickly sprinkling some flour over the top so she could continue working.

"Thank you," he said, and Mrs. Lovett looked up with a smile. "You must be Mrs. Lovett." Eleanor gave a light laugh. "Yes, dear, that's me," she said, feeling warmth spread through her body at his glance. "Well, Mrs. Lovett, it's wonderful to meet you. I am Benjamin Barker."

Fighting a shiver, Mrs. Lovett smiled again. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Barker," she said, looking back down at her workspace and punching at the dough that lay there. They continued on for some time like this, Benjamin Barker eating his pie and Mrs. Lovett fighting with the dough. And the silence didn't bother her. Finally, Mr. Barker stood and paid her. "Wonderful, Mrs. Lovett. You'll be sure to see me back soon." And Mrs. Lovett knew she would.


	12. A Lonely Spirit Guiding

A Lonely Spirit Guiding

Mrs. Lovett wiped at the dirty counter with a rag, the repetitious motions working their way into a rhythm. Her mind was nowhere on the task or the small boy sitting at the table, sipping at a glass of gin. She didn't mind. Whatever Toby wanted to do. Besides, a little bit of gin wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Sighing, Eleanor scrubbed harder, fighting to keep all images of _him_ from her mind. The way he wouldn't even look at her. He never ate. He never slept. She could hear him pacing all night long. Her upper lip curled into a sneer, and Mrs. Lovett turned away from the counter, tilting her head back and attempting to compose herself. Did he not _see_ how much she needed him? Fifteen damn years she'd waited. And all Sweeney Todd did was ignore her. Did he not remember the way they used to be? The way he used to call her Nellie and bake pies with her and laugh and sit in the parlor and read? Did he not remember the last time they saw each other?

Tears pricked at her eyes, and Mrs. Lovett furiously blinked them away. No. She was _finished_ crying. She had done enough for a lifetime over the past fifteen years. Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Lovett tossed the rag down and began searching through the cabinets for the herbs she needed to use for her pies. She might as well make some more before she took care of the bodies in the bakehouse. Rummaging through the cabinets, it was easy to forget Toby sat at the table, watching her all this time. However, he soon made his presence quite clear.

"Mum?" he asked timidly, and Mrs. Lovett grunted. "Why do you love Mr. Todd when you know he'll never love you back?"

_THWACK_

Mrs. Lovett yanked her head out of the cabinet, rubbing the top of her head as she whirled to face Toby. But instead of anger, her face was filled with sorrow. She trembled once before looking down at the floor, and at once she could tell Toby was sorry she asked. Giving a sad smile, Nellie's eyes flickered back up to Toby. "You wouldn't understand," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. Suddenly, grief was wrapping its fingers around her throat, and all the sorrow of the past months was hitting her at once. Fighting for her composure, Mrs. Lovett twisted on her heel and made for her parlor, but Toby was faster. He caught her arm in his small hand, concern coloring his face. "It's okay, mum," he whispered, enveloping her in an embrace. "You'll always have me."


	13. Colder Thy Kiss

Colder Thy Kiss

Nellie closed her eyes and leaned against the alley wall. She could do this. She must. Fighting every protest in her body, she allowed the man to place his hands on her hips, shuddering at the way he trailed them up and down the length of her body. It was Benjamin. Mr. Barker. _He_ was the one touching her like this, not some vile old man. It was his moist lips on her neck, his hot breath that stank of garlic and rot, his love she would receive. She was not about to sell herself to some street man. His hands slid under her skirt, and Eleanor fought to keep herself from trembling. Her fists clenched, and her chest rose with each rapid breath she took. His fingers were trailing higher, higher, until she thought she might faint or scream or run, but she did neither.

"Quiet, whore. It'll be over before you know it."

Mrs. Lovett could feel his sneer as his mouth raised to her ear, and she could not prevent a small whimper from escaping her lips as he captured her mouth with his. She could do this. She would do this. She had to. There was no other way for her to eat. Mrs. Lovett could do nothing but attempt to convince herself that this was necessary, that without doing this she would die, and that if she died she would never see Mr. B again. Memories of their times together flooded her head, blocking out filthy images of the present, the way her body was being abused, and the feel of the man in front of her. And, much to her surprise, before long it was over. The man pressed warm coins into her palm and left her there, crouched in a ball against the mildewy stone, wondering how many more times she would need to sell herself until she could see his face again.


	14. Songs Never Sung

Songs Never Sung

_"Push_, Nellie!"

Eleanor fisted her hands in the sheets, sweat pouring down her face as the midwife shouted instructions at her. Albert stood at her side, looking pale and unsure. Pain clouded her vision, and her body shook with every effort. Her back ached, and she was sure she would die at this very moment. How her mother had survived she didn't know. Crying out, Nellie's eyes widened and she threw her head back against the pillow, hardly hearing the midwife or feeling Albert's large hand wiping her hair from her forehead. All she cared about was getting this _over_ with, making the pain that seared through her body stop, and holding her child in her arms. Nellie had always wanted to be a mother, but she did _not_ want to go through this hell. Choking on a sob, Eleanor pushed with all her might, her muscles screaming in protest. Giving a satisfied shout, the midwife pulled a small baby up and snipped the cord with one swipe.

Eleanor panted, turning to face Albert, whose face was even more pale than before. The midwife turned away from them, shaking as she attended to the baby who had not yet uttered a sound. She would see her child now, and the pain would stop. But no one held the small thing out to her, and after the hours she had gone through hell, Mrs. Lovett grew angry. "My child. Let me see it," she demanded, furious that they would keep the baby from her for any more time. Albert, instead of responding, left her side and hurried toward the midwife, who gave a startled glance over her shoulder. "'Ello?" Mrs. Lovett called again, her voice hoarse. But no one responded.

"My baby. I want to hold him," she called again, panic rising in her throat. What was wrong? Why could she not hold him? Why had he not yet cried? The midwife turned to Eleanor and Albert remained facing the corner, his body shaking softly. "What? What is it?" she asked, her body trembling with fear. The midwife wordlessly held the still child out to Eleanor, and the woman snatched it up with a wail. Its face was blue, and it did not move. "NO," she shrieked, shaking the baby as she sat up despite the pain that shot through her bod. "No! Wake up! Wake up! I-" she broke off, and her sobs penetrated the otherwise silent room, and each cry shook her to the bone. "My boy..." she whispered, and somehow these almost silent, tearful words broke her heart even more than her hysterical disbelief. She had lost another child.


	15. Must the Other Pursue

Must the Other Pursue

"Mr. T! What are you-"

Sweeney Todd cut her off, yanking her up from the settee by her upper arm. He slammed her against the wall of her parlor, kissing her hard on the mouth. Time seemed to stop. Nellie gasped, feeling her knees weaken, but Sweeney Todd's body pressed firmer against her own, keeping her steady against the wall. She kissed him back with the fury of twenty long years, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Finally. Finally, she was getting _something_ in this life. So many people had left her. Her father, her mother, her husband, her children. But Sweeney Todd was here. He had not left her. And now, in this moment, Eleanor Lovett was quite certain he never would.

Her hands wound into his hair, and she moaned, her body on fire every where he touched her. She'd done it. She'd truly done it. She had made him fall in love with her. Sweeney pulled back, looking at her with dark eyes filled with lust. Mrs. Lovett stared, her face flushed and her heart threatening to tear from her chest. "I... Mr. T," she whispered, leaning back into him. But Mr. Todd pulled away, his lip curling in distaste. "You are not Lucy," he spat, and Mrs. Lovett blinked, blushing more furiously. "I know... but I thought..." she trailed off, suddenly uncertain. Before she could do anything else, his mouth pressed against hers again, warm and harsh. He was furious and uncaring, his teeth scraping against her mouth, but Eleanor did not care. In fact, she believed this man, this Sweeney Todd, was more perfect for her than Benjamin Barker had ever been.

His hands ran over her body, sharp fingernails leaving angry red marks across her chest and neck, and Mrs. Lovett sighed, feeling her knees finally give out. He slid with her to the floor, where passion and lust and anger and pain joined them together at last.


	16. A Jewel in My Fingers

A Jewel in My Fingers

Mrs. Lovett grinned, shoving open the door to the shop to see Mr. Barker and her husband standing at the table. As the door slammed against, the wall, cold air rushing in, they whirled around to face her. Breathless, Eleanor gave a little laugh as the two men donned matching expressions of concern and headed towards her.

"Nellie! Are you alright?" Mr. Barker's eyes were wide, taking in her slightly torn dress and the small scratch that rose on her right cheek. Nellie nodded, putting a hand defiantly on her hip. "Yeah, o'course. Some silly blighter tried to take me money," she said, her eyes glowing. Albert frowned, worried, and took her appearance in. "And are you hurt?" he asked, glancing at Mr. Barker. Nellie shook her head. "Course not! And I still got the money." She reached a hand down the front of her dress, drawing embarrassed stutters from Mr. Barker, who hurriedly averted his eyes. Unfazed, she pulled out the small black pouch, jingling the coins satisfactorily in front of the man she was married to and the man she loved. "He got me once," she said, pointing to her cheek, "but I got me dress outta his hands and gave him a good kick to the-"

Mr. Barker cut her off with a splutter as Albert raised his eyebrows, used to his wife's brash behavior but disapproving nonetheless. "I think we get the idea, Nellie," Mr. Barker said, giving an amused smile. She grinned. "Told you I could fend for myself," she added smugly, stuffing the coin pouch back down her dress and heading around to the pie counter. Albert shook his head and ruffled Nellie's hair affectionately. She grimaced but said nothing.

"Well, I'm going to head down to the butcher's. I just stopped in to make sure you were doing alright," Albert said, pulling on his coat and heading to the door. Mr. Barker looked after him, not moving from his spot in front of the counter. Meanwhile, Eleanor pulled out a small bowl, rummaging through the cabinets. At the noise, Benjamin turned around, incredulous.

"Aren't you going to...clean up?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Nellie stood, turning to face him with a confused frown. "Nah. It's just a little tattered," she said, looking down at her dress. Benjamin Barker sighed, crossing the space to stand right in front of her. His eyes fixed on her cheek, so close to her lips, and it would be so easy to lean into him and do what she'd wanted to for three years. "No... I mean your cheek," he murmured, running a finger along the red line. Nellie shivered, and Mr. Barker raised an eyebrow, misinterpreting her movement to be due to the pain. "See?"

Mrs. Lovett cleared her throat, looking down and attempting to quell the urges that rose inside of her, trying not to give in and clutch the man close to her, to whisper how much she loved him and beg him to stay with her. Instead, she waited until he stepped back, and turned back to her bowl. Obviously embarrassed, Mr. Barker headed back to the staircase in the hallway between the pie shop and parlor, but Mrs. Lovett grabbed his arm. "Wait! I don't- I mean-" she took a deep breath, attempting to say something intelligible. "I'm going to make chocolate scones for the shop," she said, looking him right into the eye. Dark brown eyes that seemed to reach into her soul, that shone with beauty and - Clearing her throat again, Mrs. Lovett glanced over at the bowl again. 'Would you help me?" she asked, praying to whatever God there was that he would say yes and she could spend another hour or two with him before Lucy ensnared him once more.

Grinning, Benjamin nodded. "Of course! I do love your chocolate scones," he added, walking back with her in front of the counter. They spoke as Mrs. Lovett threw ingredients into the bowl, succeeding in covering herself with a dusting of flour, chocolate, and whatever other ingredients tried to find their way into the mixture. And for a few precious hours, Mrs. Lovett forgot all about Lucy and Albert and all that was mattered in the world was her and Benjamin and the chocolate scones they labored over.


	17. Ages and Ages Hence

Ages and Ages Hence

"M-Mum?"

The whispered words and tentative knocks on her bedroom door were enough to rouse Eleanor from her sleepless state, and she rose from the bed, wrapping her light black nightdress tighter around herself. She pulled open the door, auburn curls hanging down around her face and trailing down her back. Toby stood before her, his eyes painted dark with exhaustion and wide with fear. He clutched at the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Lovett could see him fighting to maintain his composure.

"C-Can I stay with you tonight?"

Mrs. Lovett gave a sad smile. Apparently she wasn't the only one with demons in her dreams. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she led him into the room, closing the door behind her. And she was thankful for his company, for the way his small body clung to her as though she could save him from the evils of the world, as though through the touch of their bodies she would protect him from from all his demons. And Mrs. Lovett, for tonight, pretended she could.


	18. To Meet You Again

To Meet You Again

"I am a lass who alas loves a lad who alas has a lass in Canterbury. Tis a row dow diddle dow day tis a row dow diddle dow dee." Mrs. Lovett's voice rang out in the empty shop, all happy laughter and love gone. She rocked Johanna in her arms, eyes flitting from the gorgeous baby on her lap to the razors that sat, waiting, on the vanity. She could almost pretend she was Lucy, with pale skin and glittering blonde hair that shone in the sunlight. She would watch Benjamin Barker come home and feel his touch on her skin, know she was loved, and have a child of her own. Looking fondly back down at Johanna, Mrs. Lovett smiled. She would have a child. She would be raised and gorgeous when Mr. B returned, and he would realize that he loved her all along. He would realize that blonde hair and angelic manners weren't all he could love. He would love her instead. And until then, Mrs. Lovett could cherish this piece of him, this child who so resembled him, and she knew she would never lose hope.

Sitting here, she could pretend he had never left at all. The room was dusted, as always, and all their belongings lay untouched. The big window overlooked people oblivious to the evils of the world and those all to aware of them. Eleanor Lovett was very aware of the hell called Earth. She had long ago lost faith in God, long ago sold her soul to the devil. She believed it much more likely that there was a devil than a God, for surely God would pity her sufferings. She had lived without love for so many years, never knowing what it would be like to be held by the one she loved, what it would be like to lie beside him instead of the man who loved her, what it would be like to hold their child. But this had to be enough. She would take Johanna in and do what Lucy could not. She would raise her with Albert and be ready for Mr. Barker when he returned. Johanna was all Eleanor had left. She couldn't leave her.

Cooing quietly to the child, Mrs. Lovett was unaware of the salty teardrops that splashed lightly into Johanna's thin, pale hair. Her bright eyes wandered around the room as she gurgled happily, also unaware of the elder woman's sorrow. It happened often that Nellie would simply cry, her mind elsewhere, and only realize her tears once they had dried in shiny tracks down her cheeks. Albert pretended not to notice. He picked her up off the ground and put the gin away and held her in his arms and pretended he did not know that Nellie was only thinking of Benjamin Barker, trying to convince herself that it was _him_ holding her and not her husband, that it was _his_ kind words that tried to soothe her and not her husband's. But Nellie knew she could not go on pretending forever. And yet she could not stop. Her fantasies were all she had to live for. She had no children, no family left, no one but Albert. And he was becoming ill. Overweight, lazy, and with breathing that was aggravated by the smallest of tasks. Nellie knew that some day he would leave her too. And then it would be only her. And then her fantasies would become her reality and the days would blend into a bright haze and Nellie would finally be happy.


	19. Your Wayward Sheep

Your Wayward Sheep

"My big sister says you're nothin' but a tramp!" the boy spat, his lip curled into a sneer as he shouted at Nellie, who was twirling around on the branches of a tree. "She says you ain't got manners or nothin' lady-like." Nellie lifted her skirts, leaping down from the tree. Her eyes blazed. "An' what if I don't want to be a lady?" she asked mockingly, folding her arms over her chest, dirtied with bark and soil and God knows what else. The boy laughed, running over to a mud puddle near her. "Then you're crazier than I thought!" he shouted, kicking a footful of dirt onto Nellie's dress. Cheeks blazing, Eleanor clenched her fists and heaved in breaths of air. If she wanted to dirty herself, that was fine. But he had no right to kick mud at her. Ignoring everything she'd ever been taught about society, Nellie lurched at the boy, wrapping her small fingers around his neck and pulling him to the ground, where she drew back her right arm and pummeled his nose with her fist. There was a sickeningly delightful crunch and Nellie felt warm blood spill onto her knuckles. Grinning, she stood up, brushing herself off, and gave the boy lying on the ground a kick to the ribs for good measure. "Well you can tell _that_ to your sister," she said with a smirk, holding her head high and marching off with her bloodied fist raised like a trophy.


	20. In the Darkness

In the Darkness

_She was by the sea at last, so close to feeling the water lap at her toes, and Toby and Mr. Todd were by her side. And all the joy she'd been denied for twenty long years came at her in a rush, filling her in a way she did not know was possible. Yet as she lifted her foot from the sand to step forward, she found she could not. Frowning, Mrs. Lovett tried again, but again her attempts were to no avail. Looking down, she saw that bloodied bodies were clutching at her legs, piled around her, throats slit and eyes wide. They scraped at her with decomposing fingertips, sharp bone poking at her legs underneath her skirts. Gasping, Mrs. Lovett let out a shriek and whirled to face Sweeney. "Mr T! Help me!" she cried, stumbling back slowly as the corpses dragged her away from the sea and away from the happiness she had dreamed of for so long. But Mr. Todd only gave that empty smile of his before pulling the boy toward him. "I would never help you, Mrs. Lovett. You are nothing to me."_

_He pulled out his gleaming razor, beautiful and wicked, and brought it high in his right arm. Crying out, Mrs. Lovett lunged for him, but the corpses held her fast. His razor came soaring down, glinting in the little light poking through the thick clouds, and sliced Toby's throat. The boy crumpled, falling lifeless into the sand, and Mrs. Lovett choked on tears and hoarse sobs. Through her watery vision, she saw Sweeney striding slowly and meaningfully toward her, his razor baptized with her son's blood. Quivering, Mrs. Lovett let the tears drench her skirts and run together with the bodies' blood. "And now, Mrs. Lovett, you will hinder me no more." He lifted the razor again, pressing it gently to her neck. She could feel the hot blood and the cool blade melting into her skin, and she whimpered. "Please..." but Sweeney simply gave a mirthless laugh and pressed the blade farther into her skin. She could feel it, slicing through sinews and flesh, giving her what she'd deserved for so long, and hot tears ran together with the blood that seeped from her throat. She broke down, sobbing, as he withdrew the razor and brought it back in a wide arc. His arm flew toward her, almost invisible with his quick movements, and it was so close, so close to cutting her. She could feel the sharp tip slice through her throat, touching her windpipe, and then -_

Strong hands ripped her to her feet, and Mrs. Lovett jumped, gasping. Her chest was heaving, and she struggled against whoever was holding her. The man's grip tightened, and he growled low into her ear. Choking, Mrs. Lovett trembled and blinked sleep from her eyes, looking into the dark eyes of Sweeney Todd. He stared at her with an unreadable expression, and she reached a trembling hand up to wipe sleep from her eyes, instead finding rivers of tears. "I heard noises..." he muttered, looking away from her. Mrs. Lovett cleared her throat, looking down. "I- It was just a dream, love," she whispered, trying to convince herself as well as him. Sweeney flicked his eyes to her, and when their gazes met Mrs. Lovett found herself unable to move her gaze, no matter how his dark stare made her squirm and pine and want to hold him. When finally he turned his head away, she tentatively approached him, wrapping her arms lightly around his waist and burying her head in his neck. He stiffened but did not push her away, and when his arms lightly encircled her, Mrs. Lovett found that she did not care that he was probably thinking of Lucy and the Judge and Johanna and Anthony and his revenge. All that mattered was that he was here, holding her, when she needed him most.

He allowed her to fall asleep in his arms, her small body sagging against his, and he carried her gently to the bed, when he turned his face away and left her there without a second glance, allowing her to revel in dreams of marriage and the seaside that would never become a reality.


	21. Dreams of Loveliness

Dreams of Loveliness

Colors. Colors and lights and black and red and brown and anger. Walls wobbled into circles and the stairs beneath her feet felt like jelly. Weak. Crawling, panting. Heavy door and too much effort. Splinters in fingertips and laughter and ghosts that no longer exist and grief that consumes all. The lack of light is blinding. Her skirts are silk and velvet and muslin and perfect and warm as blood and cold as ice and purple and yellow and orange and her hair is golden and blonde and red and pinned up, hanging down, greasy, poking eyes, itching necks. Tears. Clear things that fall from the sky and land on the floorboards that twist and turn and sneer and leer at her. She pulls herself up on the mirror. Not blonde. Not beautiful, not loved. Not Benjamin. Not Lucy. Not Johanna, not happy, not good. She stands, shaky, wobbly, knees knocking. She frowns, eyes burn and shine. Brown. Not blue. Shouts, anger, pain. Her fist slams into the mirror, sharp shards embedding themselves in her palms as the mirror shatters, a million luminescent sparkles flying around the room.

But the pain that shoots through her arms and the blood that runs down her hands makes her feel alive. She can think again. The pain clears her head. Sinking to her knees, Nellie slams her fists into the mirror again, cracking it lower as glorious pain shoots through her hands. And in this moment, she wonders if perhaps Lucy was not weak. If perhaps she was stronger than Nellie could ever be.


	22. Weep for Yourself

Weep for Yourself

Eleanor Lovett sits on her settee, legs curled to her chest as she tries to hide her tears in her skirts, the opened gin bottle and empty tumbler sitting on the seat beside her. She should be _happy_, not sad, but for some reason the emptiness consumes her and she cannot bear to be with them for another moment, not that they would want her anyway. And she is ashamed, for this is a moment of joy and celebration and all she can think of is herself. She does not want Benjamin Barker to see her tears, but he would not notice, for he is undoubtedly too busy upstairs with Lucy. Hiccuping, Nellie jumps as footsteps sound, entering the parlor. She hastily wipes at her tears, but when Albert walks in instead of Mr. Barker she abandons the effort, new tears streaming hotly down her face. Alarmed, Albert rushes toward her, moving the gin carefully out of the way and sitting beside her.

"Nellie! Are you alright?"

His hand rests on her shoulder, and Mrs. Lovett struggles to control herself. She stops the tears after a few moments, giving her husband a sad smile. "The Barkers have a baby girl..." she mutters, her throat hoarse and thick from her cries. Albert's face draws in comprehension, and he wraps his large arms around her, pulling her as close as his large frame allows. "Oh Nellie," he whispers, burying his face in her tangled hair, and for once she is not revolted by his touch.


	23. Hurt Me Now

Hurt Me Now

"Your Lucy is gone!" she shouts, standing from her seat at the booth and leaning over the table, her face livid. Sweeney makes no move, staring impassively in front of him. Tears sting at her eyes, and Eleanor turns her face away before he can witness her moment of weakness. "She left you, Mr. T. She left you all alone," she spat bitterly, whirling back to face him. At this, Sweeney Todd snarls, jumping up from his seat as well. He grips her upper arm tightly, yanking her out of the booth and in front of him.

"Don't ever talk about my Lucy like that," he growls, his eyes burning with fury. Raging beyond belief, Mrs. Lovett tears her arm from his grip, eyes shining with anger and pain. "Your Lucy was nothing but a weak prick!" she screeches, balling her hands into fists. When will he _see_ that she waited for him through all those years, that _she_ was here now, alive and ready, waiting for him to truly look at her. But Sweeney Todd simply raises his right hand and smacks her hard across the cheek. Tasting metallic blood, Eleanor whimpers and brings a shaking hand to her lips. Mr. Todd turns on his heel and slams the shop door behind him.

Shaking, Mrs. Lovett stumbles to the counter, sliding down with her back against the harsh wood. He would never hurt her. She had thought he would never hurt her. And now, feeling the imprint of his palm sting on her cheek and tasting the blood from her lip, Eleanor Lovett waits for tears that will not come and feels a hollowness that will not leave.


	24. Set You Free

Set You Free

_Please, please_

She prays to a God she no longer believes in, her eyes staring sightless at the ceiling. She thought that loving him would be enough. That feeling his touch in the cold night would let her pretend she had his heart. But it is not enough. It will never be enough. And now, she prays that their couplings will produce a child. Because then he would love her. She could force him to love her, if only a life would be created out of their anger and hate and desperation. But Nellie knows her wish will not be granted, for her God is angry and unforgiving. And she knows that they will never have a life together. No matter how much she wants to live in her fantasy, it is hardest at night. In the daylight, sun sparkles on glass and windows and shines with possibilities, and it is easy to pretend. But in the dark, there is no light to hide behind and no false shimmers of hope. At night, he lies with her and leaves her without a word, naked and cold and dreaming of the time when he will lay his head on her chest and she will play with his hair and when she wakes he will be there beside her.

But she knows she will never be married. She knows that Mr. Todd will never accept her. She knows the only ocean she'll ever see again will be their own rolling waves of salty blood as it spills from their bodies and runs together in the last confession of pain.


	25. What is in Your Heart

What is in Your Heart

"Mrs. Barker. You're not really thinkin' of goin', are you?"

Nellie's voice, incredulous, rings through the small apartment over her shop, and the blonde woman does not turn away from the window, the small child bouncing in her arms. Mrs. Lovett crosses her arms over her chest, wondering how this woman could be so daft. It was the bloody Judge's fault Benjamin Barker was gone, and Lucy was going to accept the Beadle's invitation to the masquerade ball? Eleanor could feel in the pit of her stomach that this would only end badly, and as much as she wished she would be rid of Lucy, she could only think of the pain it would cause Benjamin.

"Well yes, of course, Mrs. Lovett," she says, facing her landlady with wide eyes. "Oh, I know, but if I might at least speak with Judge Turpin perhaps he will see that Benjamin is innocent and bring him back home." Her lip wobbled, and fat tears spilled down her cheeks. Ashamed, Lucy turned away, cooing halfheartedly to Johanna as Mrs. Lovett fought for her patience. "Lucy Barker," she said slowly, and at the use of her given name, Lucy froze. "It's the bloody Judge's fault all this happened in the first place!" she said, throwing her hands into the air. "You _know_ 'e's got his eye on you." Mrs. Lovett narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the perfectly assembled woman. "Nothin' good's going to come of this, I'm sure," she finished, shaking her head. But Lucy simply smiled sadly.

"I know, Mrs. Lovett, but I must try."


	26. To the Brink

To the Brink

"No! NO! YOU CAN'T TAKE HER!"

Mrs. Lovett clutched the child tightly to her chest, tears flowing down her face. They had left her alone for three months with the child. Three long months after Lucy drank the arsenic. Three long months where Mrs. Lovett could pretend the child was hers and live out her fantasy. Three long months during which Eleanor Lovett had a child she could call hers. And now he came. The policeman crossed his arms, signaling to the others, and two additional cops entered, followed by the infamous Judge Turpin himself.

Her face curls into bitter hatred, and Mrs. Lovett turns away from them, her eyes on the Judge, shielding the child as good as she can. "You've got no right," she mutters, deep in her chest, and Judge Turpin gives a bone-chilling laugh. "My dear woman. I have the right to do anything I please," he says, examining his perfectly manicured hands. "I have had the right to send Mr. Barker away. I have had the right to possess dearest Lucy Barker. And now I have the right to claim her child."

Mrs. Lovett's eyes widen, and she scrambles back further, the Judge advancing slowly. "And do you really think she would be well suited to this sort of environment?" he asks with a sneer, his eyes cruel and unforgiving. "A poor woman and her husband, who cannot even support themselves. No. It is indeed best that I take the child."

Mrs. Lovett chokes on another sob, as Judge Turpin beckons the officers forward, and before she knows it she is on the ground, the child being pried from her hands. Tiny lungs expel a large wail, and all the woman can do is lay on the floor, heaving sobs. She scrambles up, tripping over her skirts and falling back onto the ground. They are already leaving the parlor, and Mrs. Lovett tears after them, begging.

No, no please! Please! She's all I've got!" Heart-wrenching sobs wreak her body as the men do not spare her a second glance, and for the second time, Eleanor Lovett's world crumples around her.


	27. Dream it Truth

Dream it Truth

His nail dig into her sides, sharp and painful, and she loves it. His hands bruise her arms, her throat, his kisses trail blood and bite marks, and she loves it. His body is hard against her own he is harsh and unforgiving, and she loves it. His hands fist in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat, and she loves it. His teeth sink into her flesh, drawing beads of blood, and she revels in it. She tangles her fingers in his hair, pulling hard, and exults in the sounds he makes. He scraps his fingernails down her back, and she can feel her skin tearing, revealing tender flesh, and she gasps, pressing her mouth to his. He bites her lip, bruises her mouth, and she knows there is no place for her but here, at his side.


	28. Confess Your Love

Confess Your Love

Toby or Mr. T. That was what it came down to, wasn't it? Yes. She had to do this. There was no other way. Besides, Toby was already halfway through London by now. _Oh, please, Toby. I hope you're far, far away._ She lifted her skirts, heart pounding, and tried not to let Mr. Todd see the pain and fear in her wide eyes. She did not cry; she hardly ever did anymore. But her heart broke with flashbacks of Johanna and hating that she had to choose between her child and the man she'd loved for her whole life. The sludge from the sewers seeped into her nose, clinging to her clothing and reminding her where she was and what she was doing. The razor in Sweeney's hand gleamed ever so slightly in the dim light as she called to Toby, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. _Please, please, don't let us find him_. Mr. Todd, oblivious to her distress, marches on, grim and determined. She knows this is the only way - that if Toby escapes he will undoubtedly go to the police and they will both be caught and hanged, but she cannot keep herself from hoping that he is gone, somewhere in London and perhaps loves her enough to keep this a secret. He can find another mum to take him in, another life to live. But this thought makes her heart break even further, for while he may be able to go on she surely cannot.

"I don't think he's 'ere, love," she whispers, placing a hand on his shoulder. Todd jerks away, whirling on her. "I don't have time for this, Mrs. Lovett," he hisses, his knuckles turning white around his razor. "The judge is coming." Mrs. Lovett's boy rushes with relief. Perhaps he will leave Toby go, and she can still feel reassured knowing she chose him and not Toby. "We can look later," she says halfheartedly, torn between death and saving her son. Todd grunts and gives one last sweeping look around the sewers before storming past her, back to the bakehouse. She does not follow him.


	29. Your Folly

Your Folly

"Nellie! Where are you going?"

Mr. Barker's voice rings out from the stairs between the pie shop and the parlor, and Mrs. Lovett turns around, her deep green dress swishing on the wood floor. She smiles up at him, loving how he never ceases to make her heart leap. "Dancing, Mr. Barker, why?" Mr. Barker gives a little laugh and makes his way down the stairs toward her. His laughing eyes stare right into hers, and Nellie can't help but feel her breathing quicken. "How many times have I told you, Nellie, to call me Benjamin?" he asks, a teasing smile playing on his lips. She laughs breathlessly, flicking her eyes to the walls in an attempt to calm herself. "Maybe a bit more, Mr. B," she says, but silently her heart is flying as it always does when he trusts her enough to speak his given name. Benjamin laughs again, following her into the pie shop. "And is Mr. Lovett coming with you?" he asks, and Nellie can't help but believe that there is a wariness to his tone. The smile slides slowly off her face, and she looks down at her hands.

"Ah, not today, Mr. B," she says quietly. "'E don't really like to dance," Eleanor admits, looking back up again, and her smile is plastered back in place. "So I'm goin' alone tonight." And there is a twinge of sadness in Mr. Barker's eyes, making Mrs. Lovett wonder if perhaps he can see past their outwardly happy marriage, if perhaps he knew more than she suspected. But the moment is gone, and his smile is back in place. He rests a hand on her arm, making her flood with heat. "Why don't I come with you?" Mr. Barker asks, and Mrs. Lovett breaks out into a smile. "That'd be lovely, dear," she says, covering his hand with hers. "But what about Lucy?" she asks, praying that he will leave her home, that just for tonight she can have him all for herself.

"She'll be fine. With her pregnancy, it's best for her to rest anyway." Nellie's heart leaps with joy and a twinge of sorrow, reminded that Lucy is about to be given what Nellie had been denied numerous times. But she smiles nonetheless, letting Mr. Barker lead her out the door and to the dance hall, where she can pretend that his warm embrace and the way they twirl across the floor means something more.


	30. Give You All

Give You All

The shop bell rings, and Mrs. Lovett snaps her head up. A man with a shabby hat pokes his head inside, and upon seeing her enters. The first customer in two weeks. "Ello, love! Here for a pie?" she asks, attempting to paste a smile upon her face. She hasn't had contact with another person in a week, and she fears she cannot remember how to smile. The man clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable at the way she carries herself, but persists nonetheless. "Not exactly. I noticed that the room above your shop is unoccupied. I was interested in renting it." At this, Mrs. Lovett's smile drops. "No. The shop is not for rent," she spits harshly, and the man frowns, startled. "But I-" she cuts him off, her eyes blazing and tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Did you hear me? I SAID IT'S NOT FOR RENT!" she screams, her voice hoarse and explosive. Eyes widening, the man withdraws his head before the bowl of pie dough smacks against the door and the tears spill over her eyes.


	31. The Things I Seek

The Things I Seek

"Sweet Polly Plunkett lay in the grass, turned her eyes heavenward sighing-"

Mrs. Lovett cuts off, turning to the entrance to the parlor where Mr. Barker leans on the door frame. She immediately blushes, but he simply smiles and walks up to her. "Why'd you stop?" he asks, sitting on the bench in front of the harmonium beside her. Edging over to give him more room, Nellie gives him a small smile. "Dunno. I don't usually sing when people are around," she says, her hand going absentmindedly to her messy hair. "I thought you'd gone out with Mrs. Barker." Benjamin's brow furrows, but his face is warm and happy.

"I believe you should sing for people more often," he says with a gentle smile. "You've got a lovely voice." Nellie blushes, clearing her throat as she fiddles with something on the harmonium. "Will you teach it to me?"

Surprised, Eleanor Lovett looks up with a grin. "I didn't know you could sing, Mr. B," she says slyly, her eyes alight. She could picture them now, spending hours together at the harmonium, their voices raised in harmonies while Lucy and Albert are away, and her heart soars. He gives a breathless laugh, his eyes sparkling. "I sang a little when I was younger," Benjamin admits, turning toward the instrument. "Now. How does this go again?" Placing her fingers on the keys, Nellie slowly repeats the song, feeling Benjamin's eyes locked on her. She cannot keep the smile from her face as she sings.

"What's so funny?" he asks, teasing, and Mrs. Lovett turns to him, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm just picturing what it'll sound like when _you_ sing it," she says, her eyes sparkling. Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Barker grins. "Just fine, thank you." Laughing, Nellie turns back to the harmonium, glancing at him. "Ready?" she asks, and after a moment, Mr. Barker nods. She plays, her fingers sliding lightly over the keys as she listens to his voice, soft and strong as exactly as she'd imagined it. The song is over, but she hardly notices, her fingers hovering over the keys. Nellie opens her eyes, not remembering having closed them, and looks into Benjamin's triumphant eyes.

"Not too bad, then?" he asks with a smirk, and Mrs. Lovett cannot think of a witty comeback. "Wonderful," she says honestly, and his smirk melts into a genuine smile.


	32. Lay Me Down

Lay Me Down

Eleanor Lovett sits at her harmonium, desperately wanting to sing but finding she is not able. She reaches into her bodice with a sigh, pulling out a small pin woven with a single strand of brown hair. Her eyes glaze over and she tries to focus on the past, to feel happy like she did back when Albert was alive and Mr. Barker was here and Lucy was sane and Johanna was in the room upstairs. But she is finding that with every passing day it takes more and more effort to weave her intricate fantasies, that every day she is becoming more and more aware of the state of the world around her. Taking in a shuddering breath, Eleanor places the pin on the harmonium and presses her fingers to the keys, but the sound that comes out is not a cheery parlor song like she had intended but instead a mournful melody without a tune, and she stops, the tone ringing out around her even as she removes her hands from the keys. Grabbing at the pin, she snarls and hurls it at the wall opposite her, letting her face fall into her hands and dry sobs wrack her body. She almost does not hear the footsteps in her hallway, and she does not notice when they stop and he stands, staring at her.

She does notice, however, when he crosses to the discarded pin, and does hear the way the floorboards creak when he is so close. Blinking away tears that never came, Mrs. Lovett hurriedly pushes herself up, pasting on a smile and turning to face him. **"Mr. T! I didn't 'ear you come in,"** she says weakly, and she knows he can tell that she is faking, because his gaze betrays no emotion. "What is this?" he asks, holding up the pin. Noticing the hair for the first time, he pries it from the object. **"No!"** she cries before she can stop herself, jumping up from the bench and knocking it over behind her. Crossing to him, Mrs. Lovett puts a hand on his shoulder. **"It's me Albert's,"** she mutters, her eyes flicking from him to the pin and hair. And for a moment he stands there, his brow furrowed. Sweeney Todd gives a small nod before tossing the pin and the hair into the fire cackling away in front of them, and Mrs. Lovett falls to her knees with a shocked cry, staring as the pieces of her history burn.

"I have nothing of hers. Why do you deserve anything of his?"

And he leaves her there in a heap, too distressed to ever dream of telling him that it was not Albert's hair at all but Benjamin Barker's, and that he had just severed her last tie to the man she had loved for twenty long years.


	33. Roll Away Your Stone

Roll Away Your Stone

Mrs. Lovett hums as she walks up the stairs, trying not to notice how her arms shake under the weight of the tray or how her notes are slightly off-key, but when she pushes open the door to the shop all of that is forgotten. The tray clatters to her feet, and she stands there, open-mouthed, as she watches Lucy whirl around, a bottle of arsenic in her shaking hands. Her eyes are wild, and her hair is mussed. For a moment, Eleanor's heart gives and excited thrill, but she remembers her place and her promise, and she springs into action.

"Now dear. You don't want to be doing that," she says slowly, but Lucy clutches the bottle to her chest. "Oh yes I do," she says frantically, trembling as she wrenches the cork from the bottle. Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Lovett steps over the mess on the floor, slowly walking toward the mad woman. "Mrs. Barker," she pleads. "He'll come back. I know he will!" Lucy gives a crazed laugh. "You don't understand, do you Eleanor?" she spits, her eyes furious. "He's. never. coming. back. And now I've...I've... I've got the Judge to deal with! And he... And I... No. I _do_ want to do this. More than anything," Lucy says, her knuckles turning white around the glass.

Mrs. Lovett shakes her head. "No, Mrs. Barker, you've got a child! Think of Johanna!" she says, her voice rising as the bottle comes closer and closer to Lucy's lips. But she does not stop, and she tips the bottle up, letting the liquid course down her throat. Mrs. Lovett could have run over then and knocked the bottle from her hands. She could have stopped her from doing something so rash, talked reason into her. She could have saved her life. But she didn't. And somewhere, deep inside, she was glad.


	34. Close Your Eyes

Close Your Eyes

"Another pie, love?"

Mr. Barker shakes his head, gesturing for her to come sit beside him. Frowning, Mrs. Lovett looks around the shop. "I dunno, dear... Albert'll be home soon, and I've gotta get some work done..." but Mr. Barker gives her that look and she breaks, sighing as she gives him a small smile and slides into the booth across from him. "It's fine," he says in response to her hesitation. "Besides, there's no one here today." Raising an eyebrow, Nellie leans her elbow on the table in defeat. "Guess you're right, Mr. B." They sit like that, in comfortable silence for a while, before Mr. Barker clears his throat. Nellie looks up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" she asks, sitting up straighter. Mr. Barker turns a light shade of red, and it's all she can do to keep from bursting. "What is it, Mr. Barker?" she asks, amused. He shifts uncertainly in his seat. Will he confess how he feels about her? Perhaps he has another story to share. Or something equally as enticing.

"Come on, out with it!" she says, raising an eyebrow. Benjamin sighs. "All right. It's...I've met this...girl," he says, fiddling with the plate his pie had sat on. And Mrs. Lovett fights to keep the smile on her face. Maybe he's being coy, and he means her. But something in her says otherwise. "Her name is...Lucy. Lucy Patton," he explains, not looking at her. "And I... I think she may be the one." His voice is nothing more than a whisper at this point, and he glances up at her. For a moment neither of the speak. But then Nellie breaks into a wide, forced smile and leaps out of her seat to stand beside him, hands on his shoulders.

"Oh, Mr. Barker! That's wonderful!" she says, hoping he doesn't hear how strained her voice is. He gives a small smile. "I know. But...I've only seen her once, and I'm not sure if she fancies me or not..."

Looking down at him, Mrs. Lovett tuts. "Of course she does, dear. Girl would be silly not to." Why she had ever thought he'd fancy _her_ was the question. She was a good five years older than him, and she was already married. There was never any hope. Then why did this hurt so much? "Flowers, dear. Get her some flowers."


	35. Carvers of Stone

Carvers of Stone

"Ah! You've done it, love," she coos, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. Toby looks up at her, eyes wide and excited. "Really?" he asks, looking back down at the game board in front of him. Mrs. Lovett grins. "Yes, dear, look! All me pieces are gone." Toby laughs, wrapping her in a hug. "Thanks, mum!" She smiles, her heart melting at the smudged dirt on his cheek and the flour on his clothes. "Why're you thanking me, love? You did it yourself," she says, standing up and patting at her hair. Toby stands with her, his hands on her skirts. "Well, you taught me to play," he says humbly, and Mrs. Lovett gives him an affectionate smile. She cannot believe that just a few months ago, Mr. Todd was thinking of offing the boy too. And she is eternally grateful he was spared, for he is the closest thing she's had to a child, and he is more than enough.

"Ah, love, it was nothing," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now, how about a nice pie and some gin, eh?" she asks, and Toby nods. She walks him over to the table, taking out a plate and a leftover pie and pouring two tumblers of gin.

Setting it in front of him, Mrs. Lovett slides into the booth too, taking a large gulp of her glass of gin. The alcohol burns its way down her throat, and the familiar sensation leaves her feeling at ease. "Mum?" Toby asks, swallowing his first mouthful. "'Ow come you never eat pie?" he asks, and Mrs. Lovett holds back a grimace. "Trust me, dear, I've eaten enough pies to last a lifetime," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. _If only he knew..._


	36. Midnight at Noonday

Midnight at Noonday

"Witch. WITCH!" she shrieks, backing up into the window. Mrs. Lovett does all she can to restrain herself from hitting the woman. She can't take it. Not any more. As a final tribute to Mr. Barker, she was going to take care of the woman and her daughter, but she cannot handle Lucy's incessant blubbering and the fits she throws. Grabbing her by the shoulders, Nellie gives the delicate woman a good shake, not stopping until Lucy has ceased speaking. "I am not a witch, you little nit," she says, releasing her. "'Ow do you think you're still alive?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Lucy says nothing, just shakes, drawing her hands up to her chest and wringing them as she looks over at the crib where they crying baby lays.

"Sweet polly - grass - deedle! Poor child, ahh Johanna," she mumbles incoherently, her face softening on the last word. She hobbles over to the child, a pockmarked hand reaching to stroke the small child's forehead. Sighing, Mrs. Lovett approaches her. "Come on, love. Time for bed." But Lucy whirls on her, her face livid. "_You_ want 'er!" she accuses, her face turned into a snarl. "You want _him_! You always wanted him, you little witch," she spits, and Mrs. Lovett is astounded at her fury and her coherence. "Devil's wife," she mutters harshly. "You can't get 'em! They're MINE!" she screeches the last word, flying at Mrs. Lovett with arms outstretched. They tumble to the floor, and it isn't long before Nellie's pinned her down, auburn curls hanging wildly around her face like fire. "You _bitch_!" she screams, and the tears come. Lucy lays there crying as well, terrified and pitiful as a child. "I won't have it! You're mad as a bat! Get out!" she cries, leaping off the woman. When Lucy doesn't move, Mrs. Lovett shoves her out of the shop, prodding her until she's at the steps. "And don't come back," she spits, slamming the door and locking it behind her. And for the second time, she is grateful for what she has done to Lucy Barker.


	37. Your Fate I Mourn

Your Fate I Mourn

Nellie sits on the settee, tears falling freely down her cheeks, as Albert sits in his chair, his head back, his breathing laboured. She does not know what to do. Wringing her hands in her lap, Mrs. Lovett struggles for the right words, the right thing to do. Should she comfort him? He would know it was insincere. Should she ignore him? Then she would be cruel. Hesitantly, she rises and kneels by his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Albert opens his eyes wearily and gives her a small smile before closing his eyes again. He was in so much pain, she knew. They stayed like that for a while, before she rested her head on the arm of the chair, and he shifted slightly, looking down at her. "I love you, Nellie," he said, and Mrs. Lovett bit back the tears. She does not look at him or speak it back. "I know."


	38. A Dream Within a Dream

A Dream Within a Dream

"Mrs. Lovett?"

Benjamin Barker's clear voice rings out, and the pie maker looks up, seeing his head poking in from the shop door. His eyes are merry, and there's snow in his hair. "Have you got a moment?" he asks, and Mrs. Lovett looks to where Albert is sitting in front of the fire. The shop's empty today, so she hasn't got anything to do anyway. Looking back to Benjamin, Nellie shrugs. "Sure." She grabs her coat from the rack and pulls it on, not bothering to put away her supplies, and instead follows him out the door. The cold air hits her and she smiles, feeling her cheeks get rosy instantly. Benjamin puts out his arm and she takes it with a laugh, following wherever he leads.

"And how are you today, Nellie?" he asks, and she cannot help the way her eyes stray to his red nose and jubilant eyes. "Fine thanks," Eleanor replies with a smile, shaking loose strands of hair from her face. "An' you?" He smiles wider, if possible. "Wonderful."

They walk on, laughing merrily as they discuss trivial things such as the weather and Albert's health and Benjamin's mother. The feeling of his warm arm under her gloved hand is irresistible, and Nellie feels herself moving closer to him with every step they take and he does not move away, until they are pressed tightly against each other, and his arm moves from under her hand to wrap around her waist. Sighing, Mrs. Lovett places her hand on his shoulder, their bodies even closer if possible. Smiling, she tilts her head up to look at him only to find Mr. Barker already gazing down at her. "Having fun?" he asks, a smile on his lips. Mrs. Lovett laughs. "Loads." He nudges her slightly and they veer to the left, muttering halfhearted apologies to the people whom they bump. "Now Mr. Barker, you 'ave to tell me, what's going on with you nowadays?" she asks once they've recovered from their laughter. "How's your apprenticeship going? 'Ave you found a girl to fit your fancy?" she smiles, but inside her heart leaps. Mrs. Lovett almost wishes he'd say yes, that it's her, and that she should forget about Albert, for she has already confessed to him that she does not love the man, and that they should run away together and elope. But he simply throws back his head and gives a laugh that makes her knees weak and shakes her head.

"No, Nellie, you'd be the first to know," he says, his bright eyes sparkling down at her. And they both freeze as their eyes meet, because somehow this time is different, somehow they've connected. She leans in to Mr. Barker, and he mirrors her until their lips touch and all her dreams begin to come true.


	39. Grains of Golden Sand

Grains of Golden Sand

Mrs. Lovett poured more gin into Mr. Todd's glass before tilting her own tumbler up, draining the last bit of liquid from the glass. She could hardly feel the burn as it slid down her throat. Looking over at Sweeney out of the corner of her eye, she snorts. It's hard to tell he's drunk, seeing as he's just as immobile and unmoving as always. The only hint is the fact that his eyes can't stop scanning the table, and when he reaches for his glass it's with grim determination. Mrs. Lovett reaches for the bottle again, but Mr. Todd's hand catches her arm.

"Think you've 'ad enough, pet.." he says, his speech slightly slurred. Mrs. Lovett gives a sloppy grin. "Trust me, dearie. I've drank this stuff enough that I've got quite a high tolerance." And it's true. When he was courting Lucy, when he was taken, when Albert died, when she lost her children, Mrs. Lovett always turned to gin. She forever had bottles stashed in her cupboards, and it was as commonplace a drink to her as a morning tea. Sweeney frowned but said nothing, simply removing his hand. She poured herself another tumbler, drinking this one more slowly. And for a while, neither of them spoke.

"I'm not him."

Mrs. Lovett almost misses his soft words, but the tumbler pauses on its way to her lips. She lowers her glass, confused. "What was that, love?" Sweeney Todd clears his throat, gulping down the last of his glass and slamming it a bit too forcefully back on the table. His eyes are angry and sad and Mrs. Lovett wants nothing more than to take all his pain away. "I'm not him," he repeats, louder, and she slides out of her seat to sit beside him. "I never said you was," she whispers, her hand on his arm. He doesn't shake her off. "Let me help you," Mrs. Lovett murmurs. "Let me help you forget." And once more, she is lost in her fantasy of wedding gowns and love as his hand slides up to cup her cheek and their lips meet in a drunken daze.


	40. Stand Amid the Roar

Stand Amid the Roar

Benjamin Barker comes crashing down the stairs, prying open the door to the shop. His face is merry, his eyes bright. Mrs. Lovett gasps in surprise, clutching at her chest when she realizes it's just him. "Gave me a fright there, Mr. Barker!" she says indignantly, wiping her hands on her skirts. "What is it?" Mr. Barker grins, almost running to embrace her, and she stiffens, pulling back slightly. A smile's on her lips but she's confused, wondering what has gotten into him. "Mr. B!" she exclaims, a laugh bubbling up. "What's happened?" He smiles brightly, hugging her once more. "Oh, Nellie! The best news! My Lucy is with child!" And instantly, she feels the familiar burning at the back of her throat, but she hugs him all the same and whispers words she'll never mean.


	41. The Dark Horizon

The Dark Horizon

Sweeney Todd stared as Mrs. Lovett pulled out a small tray from the oven, one crisp pie sitting atop it. She nervously placed it on the counter, and they both stared for a moment before Mrs. Lovett cleared her throat. "We better try it an' make sure it tastes alright," she said, shifting her weight and putting a hand on her hip as she glanced over at Mr. Todd. His gaze shifted to her with a smirk. "I believe that's your job, pet." Glaring, Mrs. Lovett held his gaze for a moment before pushing the pie around on the tray with her thumb.

"Mr. T, I ain't eatin' him," she said distastefully, her lip curling. He leans down, mouth on her ear, and his hot breath sends shivers down her spine. "Yes, you will." Eyes closed, she almost protests when he pulls back but instead tilts her head down toward the pie again. One bite. She could do one bite. No. No, she would _not_ eat human flesh. Whirling around to face Mr. T, Nellie crosses her arms over her chest. "Sorry Mr. T, but I won't do it." His eyes flash, and he seems like he's about to lunge for her. "Then let the boy do it," he hisses, his face livid. Annoyed and slightly alarmed, Mrs. Lovett backs away a few steps before replying.

"I- Mr. Todd, he liked my pies before," she explains quietly, almost hoping he'll forget the whole thing and they can just assume her meat pies are excellent. Snarling, Sweeney crosses to the pie and pulls off a piece. Relieved, Mrs. Lovett waits for him to taste it, but instead he crosses to her with a cruel smile on his face. Frowning, Eleanor give him a calming smile. "Now, Mr. Todd," she begins, but he is too quick, pushing the piece of pie into her mouth before she can protest further. Choking, she swallows it, waiting for the bile to rise. But it doesn't. Looking up at Sweeney with confusion plastered on her face, she breaks into a smile. "Not bad."


	42. My Stone of Strength

My Stone of Strength

Her skates slide on the ice and she is so free, so breathless. She goes faster and faster, away from the throng of people and she is flying and she forgets for one blissful moment. Until she collides with something hard and goes down hard, arms and legs entangled. A sharp oof draws her out of her reverie and she scrambles off whoever she's collided with, looking down to see none other than Mr. Barker below her. A hand flies to her mouth. "Mr. Barker! Oh, I'm so sorry!" but he simply laughs, waving her off. "I'm fine, Nellie." She helps him up, and brushes snow from his jacket. "Probably wasn't being too careful. I like to skate fast. Makes me feel like I'm flying," he admitted, embarrassed, and fiddled with the ties to his jacket. Mrs. Lovett smiled. "Makes you forget for a little while," she adds, and he nods. "Yes. Exactly."


	43. And in This Darkness

And in This Darkness

**_A/N: _**_Here we are, guys! The final installment. There are probably a lot more snippets I could write for her history, but I thought that this amount was probably enough for the story. I had written all this originally as a character study for my role as Mrs. Lovett, so I wanted to keep it all realistic within the confines of the Sondheim musical. Anyway, I'll talk a little more later. Without further ado, the last piece of Eleanor Lovett's history!_

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><p>She shook, praying he would forgive her. Praying that this last year had not been in vain, that these past twenty-one years had not been in vain. And seeing him like this, hunched over his precious wife's body, made her angry and sad and as hollow as fifteen years of solitude had done. But then he stands, and his gaze pierces hers, and fear strikes into her heart. But he smiles, and she laughs. He understands. She always knew he would. She knew he would understand. And now that she has confessed what she knows he has always guessed, that her love for him runs too deep, she knows that everything will be different. He strides toward her and they clasp hands and their bodies are pressed so deliciously close, his hands so tight on her waist, and she knows it's with love, not lust, that he finally sees her at last the way she's been longing for for twenty long years, and that finally her life can begin.<p>

They twirl faster and faster, their voices rising in perfect harmony, the cadence of sound what she had always imagined, and she knows they are perfect together and always will be. The barber and his baker. They were meant to be together, and her heart leaps in joy and exultation as he swings her faster, faster, his eyes never leaving hers, and she wants to melt into his arms and pull him to the ground and shower him with love and kisses, but that would mean they had to stop this intoxicating dance and she could not stop if she wanted to. Her eyes are desperate, loving, adoring, and for once she does not hide her infatuation. She allows him to see how much she loves him, knowing the glint in his eyes is his love for her as well, and then she feels weightless, too weightless, and his hands are gone and his eyes are gone and something is happening and her stomach drops out and her heart leaps into her throat and then pain pain _pain_

The flames lick at her and tormented agony rips through her throat and she screams, shouts bubbling up from her melted flesh but she forgives him even now as he watches her burn with a smirk on his face because she knows it's her fault and that she deserves this but that she will see him again for they were always meant to be together and they would be, on earth or in hell.

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><p><em>So it's really really weird having finished this... I mean, I've had them all written for a while, but uploading this final one to Fanfiction kind of makes it real. And the show's over, so that's really depressing too. Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing; it means a lot especially since this is my first real fic besides my oneshot for Lord of the Rings. Anyway, it's been really awesome and I want to give you all hugs! I've got two more up right now, Waltz (which is a two-shot) and Awake Your Soul. I'll be updating Awake Your Soul more often (I hope), and the fics there won't necessarily need to fit within Sondheim's realm so I'm going to have a little SweenettToddvett fun hopefully (; So yeah! Check it out (: And any constructive criticism or reviews here or there would be greatly appreciated! Thank you guys so much (again!) (:_


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